All That's Done's Forgiven
by A.N. Mathias
Summary: A seemingly cold-hearted woman named Morgance Svartur is sent down a road of adventure after her home of West Harbour is assulted. Travelling with a group of colorful people has its pros and cons, but can she avoid playing with the darkness lurking ahead?


_Prologue: Welcome to Neverwinter! _

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_The world was nothing but bitter and cold to me. Why should I respect it? Why do I try to protect it? The same goes for my pitiful little mere village... Why do I bother? _

She smoothed her long dark brown ringlets back, and the swiftly pulling them into a loose braid and hiding her face from view in her hood. She had been trying to answer that question ever since she had left her small Mere village of West Harbour to investigate the silver shards the astral dwellers, the Githyanki, hunted. Her village had been burned, not enough for it to be completely destroyed, but enough to prove her village was weak. She had helped the Gith attack her village, in a way, during the fighting, but she did not think about it in full. No, this wasn't the time...

She stepped off the ship, scythe upon her back and daggers hidden within her belt around her tattered, earth-colored clothes. Her loyal ally and companion of the animal world, Merle, a panther, followed after her, stealthy and silent as always. "This whole trip was one long whine from the two of you!" She heard the tiefling begin. "Neeshka!" the woman yelled, venom coloring her voice, and if anyone could see beneath her hood, her eyes as well. They all irritated her, at times. The dwarf, Khelgar, did not bother her quite as bad as the other two. The tiefling, Neeshka, felt like a naive child, needing to always be scolded for sticking her hands in the back pocket of a man making his way down the road. And she just didn't see eye-to-eye with her fellow druid, a elf named Elanee. _Maybe because her place is the land, while mine is the sea and I have allegiance to Umberlee... _

"But Morgance, you haft to admit that's all it-!" Neeshka began, but the woman held up a pale hand. "My foster-father's half-brother's place should be nearby. Let us go there without making everyone on the street stare at us." She had never, once, on this entire trip, referred to her "Uncle" Duncan as "uncle". Before any of the others could say anything, she strode down the docks and to the street, aware that Neeshka and Khelgarwere having a go at each other verbally. As long as they weren't attacking each other physically and didn't bring her into it, Morgance could just simply ignore the entire situation. She knew what they all really thought of her, deep inside, behind the smiling mask they wore. They thought she was a freak, and she was one. She was something that didn't have a name, that didn't belong in the realms.

Morgance's sharp eyes could see the tavern her "uncle" owned, The Sunken Flagon, and walked right up to the door, opening it. She could hear what Neeshka and Khelgar were saying now.

"All I'm saying is that you didn't stop whining once the entire time, stumpy!"

"Watch it, ye goat-girl. You don't know when to shut your-."

"Oh, shut up you two and go in!" Morgance barked, growing irritated suddenly with their fighting. At once, the two stopped bickering and walked. She saw Elanee's face seem relived suddenly, and the elf followed them. With one last look at the street, Morgance walked in after letting her panther past and swung the door shut behind her.

The common room of the tavern was cozy, with many tables about, although not many occupied right now. Merle sniffed around interestedly, wandering away from Morgance, who did not mind it. Instead, she ordered the others to find somewhere to sit and stop bickering, and then walked up to a half-elf man near the bar. Anther man, a human, was behind the bar cleaning glasses and talking to the half-elf. She could feel eyes, not of her allies, staring at her, but she did not turn.

"Ah, yes, and who might you be, lady?" The half-elf said plesantly to her.

"You know me. May not remember me, but you know me..." Morgance said lowly, and dangerously. The half-elf looked at her confused. "I'm looking for the owner of this inn. Where is he?"

"Old Duncan? If you're looking for him, I'd tell you he's a drunk with not even two coppers to his name." He replied cheerfully.

"I'm his niece, Morgance Svartur. I'm related." She said as calmly as she could.

"Last I had heard, Duncan was a _realms _man. What part of the family tree did you fall out of?"

_Thanks. Identify me as a freak already, old man... _"Fine. If my name doesn't ring any bells, maybe this one will. My foster-father is Daeghun Farlong." Morgance replied, half-smiling behind the darkness of her hood.

The half-elf stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. "Little Morrie, Esmerelle's little daughter? Well I wouldn't say _little _anymore, but how are you? What brings you all the way to Neverwinter?" Duncan asked.

"Nothing really," Morgance said loudly. "I'd rather we speak of this lowly, so the whole world can't hear us..." She added in a whisper. From her pack, she pulled the silver shard wrapped tightly in cloth. "What do you know about these silver shards?"


End file.
